


Unoffended

by anderscones



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: The Sign of Three, papa lestrade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-07
Updated: 2014-01-07
Packaged: 2018-01-07 19:54:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1123755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anderscones/pseuds/anderscones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>LIGHT SPOILERS FOR THE SIGN OF THREE.<br/>Greg was a little miffed that he wasn't invited to stag night. Only a little because the two were a sorry sight. He had work in the morning, anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unoffended

The office was practically empty. Greg was the only one in the immediate area aside from the janitor dumping out the bins. It was twenty minutes past the end of his shift, but he was stuck filling out paperwork and distracting himself further with a file that mysteriously appeared on his desk earlier in the day. He finished penning out the rest of the details on a page and slid the folder into his bag. The clock on the wall read 11:50 and he pinched the bridge of his nose. He'd had much longer nights many times before, but he was truly ready to go home.

He was passing the front desk when the phone on it rang. Greg looked around, looking for any sign that someone else was around to answer it.

Lestrade closed his eyes briefly before counting the fourth ring, and reached for the receiver. "Hullo?"

"Hi, wasn't expecting anyone to answer!" the operator cooed at him in a surprised tone. "Thought I'd try you guys before the main station, see if anyone was on their way out." Greg cursed in his head, knowing that he was about to get asked to handle a minor crime before going home. It wasn't exactly legal, but a shoplifter here and there was let slide, especially when manpower was much more useful at a real crime.

"Yeah, sure. What do you need?" Greg asked, hoping that the annoyance in his voice wasn't too obvious.

"Got two drunk blokes. Fancied themselves detectives or something the guy said on the phone." She replied.

Lestrade internally sighed. "Address?"

\----------------

An angry man was waving his hands around at a woman aggressively when the DI arrived. "You said they were detectives!"

"They are!" She exclaimed. "They're just a bit off right now."

"That's not them off! _They're pissed_!"

"Okay, yeah, I'm here about that," he interrupted the shouting match, pushing the man calmly out of the woman's space. "I'm assuming you're the one who called in two drunks? Where're they at?"

The lady nodded to a bench across the street. "They're harmless-"

" _The one lost his stomach all over the carpet!_ "

Greg was staring across the street at the two men dozing off on each other on the bench. A car passed them on the road, and one jumped, jostling the other into alertness, nearly falling off the metal of the seat, and in response, swatted his hand at the other.

"You need my statement, yeah?" The man coughed.

The detective shook his head. "No, s'alright," he sighed. "I'll talk to them in the morning and get you compensation for the carpet." The man tried protesting, but Greg ignored him and crossed the rain-streaked street.

Sherlock had inserted his head into John's lap by the time Lestrade reached them. Kicking at John's shoe, he spoke. "Up you get." John looked up, puzzled.

"Gr... Greg! Hi! We're on a case." He giggled out.

An amused reply came. "Yeah? Any good?"

"Oh yeah! Ghost boyfriends and all that."

Greg hummed amusedly in return. He considered a way of getting the two to their jail cell, so he gave an excuse that sounded legit enough to an inebriated individual. "Okay, well, you need a ride to the station so you can fill out a report?"

John's head lolled against the wet back of the bench. A light snore was let loose.

"Right." Greg patted at Sherlock and pushed him into a sitting position. He ushered the man to his feet and reached for the doctor before being interrupted with the task of lifting the other detective out of the soaked grass and off his back.

"S'dark," He muttered as Greg hefted him by the coat collar, not helping whatsoever. "Almost as if... it's night or something."

"Great deduction, that," Lestrade responded, stifling a laugh. "Come up with it yourself, or did John give you some direction?"

"John!" Sherlock shouted suddenly, twitching around in search for his blogger. When he saw him sleeping on the bench, he lunged forward a bit, almost falling onto the man. "John we have a case! Ghost boyfriend!" and when he got no response, Sherlock shook John awake. "A ca... what are we doing? A thing! We’ve got a thing to do!"

Greg let his hands drop in exasperation, though he was thankful that half of his job was done for him. "You have to come to the station with me."

"Oh, yeah, Sherlock we have to do that paper thing." John agreed.

"I hate paper things!" Sherlock whined back as John stood and stumbled into the road. Greg thanked the stars that no cars were passing.

"A ride would be marv-lose Gr...eg? Yeah." John called as he grasped at the car door. Sherlock followed the doctor and shoved the man out of the way, too reaching for the handle. His face screwed up when the handle did not open the door, and continued to yank it.

Lestrade snorted as he pressed "unlock" on his car remote. He was a little miffed that he wasn't invited to stag night. Only a little because the two men were a sorry sight and he had work in the morning anyway.

He got into the driver seat of the car and put the key in the ignition, looking into the rearview mirror at Sherlock and John, chuckling quietly to himself at the sight. John had his face shoved into Sherlock's neck, both of them dozing lightly.

\----

When they got to the station, the drunks were slightly more sober, just enough that Greg could shove the two down the hallway without any protests, just incoherent mumbles. Some nightshift police were sitting around the area, making jokes at Greg hauling the very drunk great detective and his equally drunk blogging sidekick into a cell.

"Coats." He demanded of the two. He knew that Sherlock might have been sober enough to pick the lock, and he wanted to be sure that didn't happen. Sherlock absently shrugged his off while staring at the ceiling and stumbling backwards. John wordlessly handed his over from his seat on the floor.

"Sit." He pushed Sherlock to the wall cot, and shut the door on his way out. He'd deal with the rest in the morning. Lestrade decided that he’d make them pay for it in the morning.


End file.
